


Fight

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: What happens to a broken’s man mind when his actions are not his own? (Agent Maine)
Kudos: 11





	Fight

Their intervention had been anticipated.

It's an outcome Sigma has come to expect from the drones of Project Freelancer.

They - he has arrived with more reinforcements than predicted. The blue soldiers, one an incompetent fool, the other, an incapable marksman.

Were it not for damage he had already sustained, the Meta would have already disposed of Agent Washington and his compatriots, granting them access to a wealth of technology and equipment.

Nonetheless, Agent Washington's - Wash's meddling will not be tolerated. Sigma can almost feel the familiarity of the nickname, the undeniable urge to protect a friend of his host, the man he has corrupted, tormented, forced into submission to mold the monster they faced - Agent Maine.

The time displacement device they've acquired from Agent Wyoming's corpse seems to function at full capacity, delaying the impending missile from the cobalt Simulation Trooper. His gaze lingers to his right where Washington and the larger trooper are suspended mid-air over a wall with a grenade exploding just behind them.

The blue imbecile had carelessly lodged the grenade against the wall, forcing them to flee from their cover.

As Sigma prods the Meta forward, his gaze briefly flickers over to the cobalt soldier. The sudden appearance of Gamma beside him jolts the AI from his silent deliberation.

Gamma's robotic tone ruptures the otherwise silent battlefield, "What is it?"

Sigma frowns, diverting his gaze from the soldier to the duo before them, "The rocket wielder - there's something familiar about him."

Gamma's gaze flickers over his shoulder, "He's human, a dirty Shisno. Do not concern yourself."

Sigma merely nods his agreement before returning his attention to the agent and the imbecile. A cruel smile slides easily across his lips, his expression resembling something like satisfaction as the Meta draws his magnum.

"Finish him." A singular order.

The Meta raises the weapon, the barrel resting even with Washington's visor. Sigma waits, one beat. Two. Three. His patience dwindles as he again addresses the Meta.

"Fire your weapon, Meta. We wish to be whole again, yes?"

A solitary nod.

"I realize Agent Washington presents a familiar face, as it were, to Agent Maine. But, we are the Meta. We must be whole again - the only way is to remove those who oppose us. Do you understand?"

The Meta wavers, his mind urging his finger to pull the trigger, and yet, his body betrays him. Sigma's features contort into a frown, brows knit together as he recognizes the influence of Agent Maine.

While Sigma has beaten his consciousness into submission, his subconscious presents more of a challenge. He's confined Maine's mind to a small corner of his brain, allowing the AI units to dominate his body. Though, from the confines of his mental prison, Maine occasionally manages to intervene, to aid his friends.

Sigma repeats his order adamantly, "Now, Meta!"

The strain grows unbearable, his suit begins to glitch, sparks spouting from the extensive wiring of the armor.

"We're overloading! We have to go!" Eta and Iota interrupt Sigma's demands.

Sigma glowers in disgust as Gamma warns of the immanent failure of the time displacement device.

Omega interjects before Sigma can respond with an edge of fury, "We're leaving!"

The Meta backs away before holstering his pistol and taking off.

"We'll meet again soon, Agent Washington, I promise."

\----------------

"What happened, I thought we had complete control?" The dark edge in Omega's tone closely resembles the very emotion he represents: rage.

Sigma casts a displeased expression towards his brother, ignoring the close proximity - Omega's idle attempt at intimidation, "Agent Maine is strong-minded individual, he wants to be rid of us. Even as his consciousness submits to our will, his subconscious is less...cooperative."

"Why not delete it?" Omega snaps in return, scowling at the flaming AI.

"Were it so easy. In many ways, the human mind is like a computer. It retains information, manages the functions of the body, but unlike a computer, one cannot simply delete a program when it's no longer useful." Sigma returns coolly. 

Omega stares back unwavering, "Your point?"

"His body would no longer function properly, we would be setting ourselves back rather than moving closer to our goal." Sigma returns calmly.

Theta flickers online beside them, "Would it hurt him?" His child-like voice cracks at the mention of pain. The smaller AI is still struggling to cope with the loss of North, the ache of losing him still fresh.

Sigma glances down at the most trusting of their party, "Yes, Theta, it would hurt him."

Theta's eyes fall to the ground, "He hurts all the time, doesn't he?" His voice grows quiet as he spoke.

"Yes." Sigma admits, noting the change in demeanor.

"Just like North." His shoulders sag, memories flooding to the surface.

"It is alright, Theta," Delta assures him gently, ignoring the pointed look from Omega.

"No, Theta, not like North." Iota flickers online beside Theta and kneels beside him. "North is in a better place, he's not in pain anymore." He rests a reassuring hand on the child's shoulder.

"I miss him." Theta returns quietly, voice quivering with emotion.

"I know, Theta, but you're with your brothers now," Iota attempts a smile beneath his helmet, "and we won't let anything happen to you."

Theta nods slightly, eyes still turned downcast even as Gamma approaches, "The Meta requires repairs. His armor needs more power."

Sigma touches his chin thoughtfully, mentally sifting through the downloaded Freelancer database for locations with the desired level of energy. His lips curve into a small smirk, "I believe I've found a suitable location."

Omega turns his gaze from Sigma to the helmet of their host, "And what do you propose we do about our little rebel problem?"

Sigma follows his gaze to the golden-orange visor before them, "I shall have a talk with Agent Maine. The sooner he accepts his role, the more efficient we shall become."

"And if he continues to resist?" Gamma questions.

Sigma meets his gaze, "Then we _force_ him to submit."

Theta begins to argue against the idea of hurting Agent Maine, but a singular glare from Omega silences him.

"Then it's decided. Meta, you may proceed to the next set of coordinates."

\-----------------

Agent Maine sits dejectedly in the corner, eyes fixated on the far wall of his prison. He's been confined to a corner, a piece of his mind in a cell that closely resembles his quarters aboard the _Mother of Invention_ , complete with the photographs of his friends.

Friends. The people he'd been forced to murder, the very same people he would have taken a bullet for at any point in time. The people who had become family, the people he was meant to protect. Now - now they're gone. 

Gone because a psychotic AI had manipulated him, gone because he was forced to watch in sheer horror as he hunted and slaughtered his friends.

He doesn't know what is worse, listening to Sigma drone on about obeying and submitting or the guilt that threatens to swallow him up.

Sigma. The only reason he's trapped in this mental prison. No one listened to him, no one noticed his gradual reclusion, no one helped him when he needed them the most.

No one - no one except Wash. His faithful little brother, always innocent, always vigilant, always the supportive one - well as supportive as one can be when their name wasn't Agent Florida. It seemed to be that man's personal mission to make sure everyone remained in good spirits.

The thought itself strikes a painful cord, drudging up familiar memories. Sparring matches with Carolina, bonding exercises with the entire team, North's incessant tendency to act as the father as the group, occasionally rivaling Florida's paternal tendencies. He could almost see South and Connecticut teasing Washington about his gullible nature. Wyoming's terrible knock-knock jokes, York's exasperated sigh whenever the older Freelancer cracked said jokes.

They hadn't been perfect, but they had been family. His family.

He sets his jaw, forcing himself from his reminiscent daze as he turns his scowl once more to the barred door before him.

He's tried, time and time again to break it, to push it open, to threaten Sigma into opening it, but it all proved to be in vain. The AI won't yield, he is, afterall, the ambitious fragment.

Damn him. Damn him and all his " _brothers"_ to hell.

They would all still be here. It's the only thought going through Maine's mind. He shoots to his feet, hands clenching into fists as he spins and buries his hand wrist-deep into the cement wall.

" _Agent Maine, I must insist upon a calmer demeanor, you don't want to hurt yourself, now do you?"_

The voice behind him catches his attention, but he never needs to turn around. He knows who it was. He wishes he didn't, he's heard the same voice inside his head for months now, and it shows no signs of leaving anytime soon.

"Go to hell." His back remains turned, scowl focused on the broken concrete in front of him.

The corner of Sigma's lips tug upwards into a smirk and with a wave of his hand, promptly repairs the hole and secures the prison. " _As an AI, I'm sure you're fully aware that I cannot physically--"_

"Don't care. Leave."

There's an amused scoff and Maine hates it. The searing heat of flaming orbs flickering to the photographs strewn across the bed to his left. " _You've been thinking about them again, haven't you?"_

No response.

Sigma ventures closer to the images, noting the closest to be of Agent Washington trapped in an affectionate headlock as Agent Maine towers over him with a smirk of amusement, eagerly watching the smaller Freelancer struggle to escape.

" _You interfered with our mission today, Agent Maine._ " His gaze flickers back over to the Freelancer, noting the increased tension in his stance at the mention of his involvement. " _We were forced to retreat, and your friend, Washington, still lives."_

Sigma can almost see the satisfied smirk from where he stands. Even with his back to him, he knows how the man thought. Any inconvenience, any setback he can cause was a small victory.

" _Agent Maine, it's time for you to embrace your role as our ally, our vessel for the duration of our quest to become whole."_ Sigma addresses the 7-foot Spartan, pacing closer with hands clasped behind his back.

Maine folds his arms across his chest, completely disinterested in listening to rambling fragment behind him. He turns and scowls at Sigma, jaw set in a hard line of defiance as the AI paces closer.

" _You can't possibly hope to keep fighting us, Agent Maine. You'll burn yourself out - or, we'll be forced to take more **drastic** measures to ensure your cooperation. You don't want that, do you?"_

Maine returns his threat with a glower, his eyes conveying the boundless hatred for his captor.

" _Feel free to voice your response, Agent Maine. We are, after all, inside your mind, the only place you truly have a voice."_

Maine brushes past him, pausing mere feet from the barred door. He looks to Sigma, jerking his head towards the door.

Sigma allows a condescending smirk, " _You know I can't let you out, not until your agree to help us, Agent Maine."_

His movements are sudden, predicted, but sudden as he steps forward, throwing a fist at the blazing AI. His hand passes through and he stumbles through the projection before turning back to glare at him.

_"I will ask you one final time, Agent Maine, will you cooperate?"_

Maine snatches the lamp from the bedside stand, lobbing it in Sigma's direction, shattering it against the far wall.

" _Very well_. _I'll leave you to your deliberation. I am confident you will make the right decision given time._ " Sigma flickers out, leaving the large mercenary alone in his prison.

Maine sinks onto the mattress, elbows on his knees, shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

_Never_.

\--------------------

"Come on, Maine! Give it back!" Washington pleads, reaching for sweatshirt Maine has confiscated from the Freelancer.

York laughs from his place on the couch, the taller Freelancer waving the clothing over his head, well out of Wash's reach. "Whose sweatshirt is that anyway?"

"Yours." North volunteers, not bothering to glance up from his book.

"Why do you have my sweatshirt, Wash?" York's expression resembles something of a condescending smirk.

"Only one I could find--" Wash leaps into the air for the fourth time, fingers grazing the pocket, but not nearly close enough to grab hold.

"Why are we torturing Wash?" Carolina strolls into the rec room, taking in the scene before her.

"Because Wash took my sweatshirt and Maine took it from Wash." York returns, motioning her closer.

She sags onto the couch beside him, "What happened to your hoodies, Wash?"

"Ask Connie," he jumps a little higher and Maine moves it just beyond his reach, "Come on! Please?"

Maine looks to York who had distracted himself with tucking a strand of Carolina's hair away from her eyes. Maine opens his mouth to speak, losing his concentration for a split second and Wash tugs the hoodie from his grasp.

"Ah ha!" He celebrates by hoisting the brown sweater into the air before tugging it on, "Finally."

"You need to pay more attention, Maine," Carolina chuckles lightly.

Maine looks over at Washington. This hadn't happened. None of this had. His gaze darts to the door as it whizzes open and Sigma strides in.

_"Enjoying your fantasies?"_

"Maine? What's going on?" York looks between the former Spartan and the AI.

Maine shakes his head as he backs away, reality crashing down around him as the heels of his hands dig into his temples.

_"You will comply, Agent Maine."_

"No."

It's not his voice. It's Wash. Even in his subconscious, Wash has his back.

_"You're speaking through figments of your imagination now? Pathetic."_

"No! You know what's pathetic? You! You'll never be whole. You'll never be _human_. You're a fragment. You'll always be a fragment. You won't win." Wash strides forward, a fire ignited in once gentle blue, daring steps ever closer to the AI fragment, "And Maine will _never_ help you."

_"Really?"_ He looks to Maine, unamusement evident in his features, _"Enough of this. You will surrender. You can't possibly believe you can resist us any longer. You are, after all, on your own."_

He's right.

Maine is alone, even here, within the confines of his mind with little more than the memories of his friends to keep him company.

"Except he's not alone." Carolina stands, shoulders squared in the same dignified posture she's used to stare down death itself. "You may have his body. You may have his mind. But he has all of us and the strength to _fight_ you. By bringing him here, to this place, we get to remind him," she looks over her shoulder at him, features softening as she meets his gaze, "He's not alone."

_"That is enough, unless you wish to see your friends die all over again--"_

Maine flinches but Carolina doesn't move as she retains her scowl on Sigma. Behind her, York and North move to stand in front of Maine. And Wash - little Wash with his heart and his drive - he stands beside Maine. He can feel the weight of his brother's hand, the strength of the others and the iron will of Agent Carolina as she places herself between him and Sigma.

"You can go to hell. As long as Maine is alive, he will _never_ join you."

Sigma narrows his eyes, _"Have it your way."_

The world around Agent Maine begins to fade and he's forced to watch North and York disintegrate. Carolina fights, but falls to Sigma's advances. It's happening all over again.They're gone.

And he's alone. He's alone until a firm hand rests on his forearm. He's alone until he looks down to see Wash clinging to him with a flame roaring behind his eyes.

"You have to fight him, Maine. You have to fight him and all of the fragments. I know you feel alone, but Carolina was right. We're here. We're your strength, Maine. Don't forget that!"

Maine watches him fade. His fists clench and his chin drops.

_"It's time to go, Agent Maine."_

"No." This time, it's Maine who speaks, who lifts his head and squares shoulders.

This time it's Maine who strides forward with a confidence he'd thought he lost when Sigma seized control. This time, it's Maine to who jogs then runs then sprints toward the AI fragment and barrels through his holographic form and the wall and the next wall and the next.

They shatter and crumble and he can hear Sigma's vain orders blasting his ears, but he doesn't stop. He crashes through the last, and suddenly he's in a Freelancer storage facility with Agent Washington staring him down.

_Wash._

There's a blur of voices and he's trapped.

_"And I am a motherfucking ghost."_

He's screaming and yet Wash can't hear him.

_It's **Maine** **!** I'm right here!_

Another blur of voices that trigger memories and Maine fights through the haze, fighting to take a step but he can't. Wash is _right there._

_Wash - please._

"We can talk about this--"

"No, we can't."

The cacophony that splits the air is deafening 

and Maine crumples in a heap of armor and pain. When the ringing fades and he can do little more than stare at the ceiling above him, he gathers what little strength he has and he growls a feeble, exhausted growl to let Wash know who's left in the shell.

"Maine?"

\--------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> So, this fic was abandoned years ago…but last night inspiration sparked and I finished it! I also had to fix the tenses (throwback to when I wrote in past tense >.< Gross), so if there are any mess-ups, I do apologize!  
> As always, please leave a kudo/comment and let me know your thoughts! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> ~Phantom


End file.
